Untermenschen
by Le Chameau Trisomique
Summary: Ludwig will never forget the day when they took his brother away. /!\ Death Fiction /!\


**Hallo Kartofel!**

**Here comes the awesome myself~!**

**I wrote this for my IGCSE ****Assignment 2 as a draft for which I was supposed to write something in Susan Hill's style like in 'I'm the king of the castle', and I wanted to post it here~**

**(Yeah I know I use Gil and Lud' for an exam but... I wanted to write something about Nazi Germany and they were perfect for it)**

**Hetalia is not mine~**

**In this story Ludwig is 8 years old and Gilbert is 12.**

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><p>Ludwig will never forget the day when they took his brother away.<p>

Everything started to go wrong at the end of January 1933 when _he_ officially became their leader. A machiavellian fatal machination set off that day. People started listening to his thoughts, they were desperate and he promised them liberty and revenge. In some ways he saved them from an apocalyptic numb, but his venomous ideas contaminated little by little the entire population. For everybody it was the purest philosophy on earth, and Ludwig saw his acquaintances becoming his marionettes one by one. It was epidemic and there was no cure.

For him nearly anything changed, he was still loved and educated like every happy child does, but for his big brother Gilbert it was the dawn of a descent in hell. The first week all his friends stopped suddenly to talk to him, a few days after it was the parents who asked the school principal to dismiss him, a few weeks after he began to receive murderous letters and when an entire month passed people started to lynch him. Gilbert's eyes weren't sparkling anymore, they became somber and empty. He was crying at nighttime in his bed, long sobs he unsuccessfully tried to hide with the blankets, and without warning anybody he stopped going to school, and a bit after he stopped going outside at all, lying all day in the attic whimpering in the dark. Ludwig decided to hate this Gilbert, because he was not his brother, it was impossible. The Gilbert he used to know was a impertinent twelve years old boy who loved fighting the rival gangs with his friends and who smirked at anybody who dared challenge him. For Ludwig it was simply inconceivable that his brother had became this weak in such a short amount of time. He started to ignore the new Gilbert.

Alone in the room he used to share with his little brother, Gilbert was lying on his former bed, staring at the familiar ceiling. The white plaster cracked and the whole house seemed to collapse. A long shiver went down his spine. They were in May, nearly in June but he felt numb, lost and abandoned. He closed his eyes trying to contain the tears that were prickling his long immaculate eyelashes. The Beilschmidt mansion was plunged into an oppressive silence, everybody left home, everybody left him. He was physically alone now and for some reason he felt a bit better. He knew that nobody was watching him, nobody was able to strike him, nobody was able to injure him. After passing half a year in the dark, Loneliness became his best and only friend. Gilbert smiled bitterly at his own reflection; he was pathetic.

He stood up and sat on the bed, putting the eyes on his absent brother's one. Perfectly tidied up, not a fold, like usual. Gilbert had a nostalgic grin, remembering himself teaching Ludwig how to clean properly their room. Ludwig's smiling face appeared in his psyche for a moment and vanished just after. In the oldest mind's was left a childish laugh, reasoning again and again and again in his haunted mind like an endless litany. Gilbert put his hand on his head, griping his unblemished hair and pulling it with force. Tears ran down his waxen cheeks and he bitted his pale lips, wanting hopelessly to keep them inside his frail body. All his muscles were trembling and he fell on the floor, unable to control himself. Spasms shook his lying corpse and Gilbert perceived an unpleasant acrid taste filling his mouth. He carried slowly his fingers to his lips and hiccuped of horror when he saw the warm scarlet liquid dripping on the ground.

It was infiltrating under his spotless nails, flowing down his pale hand, lounging his death-white arm, staining his wan shirt. Gilbert was astonished by the liquid's beauty. Someone had once told him that red was the color of love and passion, he had laughed at the fool, but somehow now he understood what that boy's words: it was beautiful and dangerous. He was hurt but fascinated. The poison was flowing out of his veins, taking away all the impurities, and he thought that the magnetic paint could wash him of all his sins. He will become _normal._

He scratched his wrist violently with his nails, ripping his flesh and feeling purely exited when his nerves writhed in pain. He thought he rather feel pain than nothing at all.

Ludwig was always the first one to come back. His parents were working until midnight and were waking up early everyday. He wasn't even sure to remember his genitors face.

Sun was collapsing slowly, falling downer each minutes, staining Earth with its warm golden hemoglobin. The last luminous carmin rays were scratching the ground, trying to surface before that the sky fell in the coal-dark night. Wind cried passing through the old yew trees, Ludwig was persuaded to hear them saying 'Farewell' to the crimson dying celestial king. For an unexplainable reason the youngest Beilschmidt brother started to cry silently. Gilbert's eyes were scarlet too.

Frau Beilschmidt put her arms around her eight years old son's shoulders. Ludwig was staring at the men throwing without any delicacy the black refuse bag in the truck. Herr Beilschmidt was joking with them, like if everything was normal. One of the two strangers put his hand in his old trousers back pocket and gave Beilschmidt some little pieces of square colorful paper. His dad took it ecstatic and put them precious in his pocket, thanking them.

"Muttie, what are they doing?" Ludwig asked to his mother. "What's happening?"

She did not answer, looking in the air, day-dreaming. He's too young to understand, she thought caressing her son's blond hair, I will tell him the truth when he will be older, that is the best for him.

"Muttie, where is Gil?" the little boy insisted. He look up at his mother pale blue eyes looking for motherly tenderness. They were empty. Ludwig suddenly hated the warm arms that were hugging him, he wanted his brother.

"Muttie, where is Gilbert?"

Ludwig voice became colder, and his mother glanced at him with surprise.

"He is in holiday dear." she lied.

"Is he coming back soon?"

Ludwig's question was full of a naive hope and Frau Inkel Beilschmidt smiled. He was still too young to feel the danger and it is my role to protect him of _this_. Because he is the only son I ever had she thought, and he's perfectly conform. She passed again her hand in his platine hair and plunged her eyes in his cerulean optic. She was so proud of her son.

"Are we going to visit him soon then?" the boy questioned again.

His mother sighed and kneeled down in front of her unique child.

"Ludwig…"

She tried to find a way to formulate her answer in order to preserve his innocence.

"He is not coming back."

The sentence slang frigid in the silence, Ludwig backed. Tears already ran down his sinless face, he was not understanding what happened to his beloved big brother and felt completely lost.

"Liar, liar, liar! I hate you Muttie, you're a liar!" he shout sobbing. "Gil is not weak! He's coming back!"

Frau Beilschmidt felt sorry for her little boy's naiveness.

"Ludwig, Gilbert was not normal. He was dangerous. Teachers must already have teach you all this at school, uh? There's some type of person you can not be safe with, people like Gilbert for exemple."

Ludwig glanced at his mother horrified by the words coming out of her mouth. He wished they had been lies but when his eyes met her mother's emotionless ones he felt disgusted.

"GILBERT WAS NOT DANGEROUS!" he shouted as loud as he could. "GILBERT IS YOUR SON!"

Ludwig pushed his mother and ran as fast as possible to the truck. A carmin fluid was dripping down on the grey concrete floor as the vehicle advanced to the west, leaving a long scarlet arabesque behind it.

Gilbert was only twelve.

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><p><strong>Frau: Mrs<strong>

**Herr: Mr**

**Untermenschen: Sub-human**

**Muttie: Mummy**

**I killed Gilbert Beilschmidt.**

***starts crying***

**Please confort me by reviewing~ ;-;**


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